


But as a child, he was so happy

by Winga



Series: Flying's not like falling [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winga/pseuds/Winga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this was for a challenge and I wrote the original poem this was supposed to be based on over a year ago so.... finally some progress...</p>
    </blockquote>





	But as a child, he was so happy

**Author's Note:**

> So this was for a challenge and I wrote the original poem this was supposed to be based on over a year ago so.... finally some progress...

As a child, John thought it odd that none of his friends had wings like he did. He let them touch them, let them hang onto him when he went flying, until his mother said to him: ”They're not like you, they will break you.”

He didn't believe her until one of his teachers screeched as he took off his coat and his wings spanned out, broke his shirt. He hadn't been able to stop it because they'd been folded for hours – usually he kept them folded for the whole of the school day because he didn't want to take that much space.

But the teacher.

She screeched, she screamed and told him to go to the principal's office. Like he had done something wrong by unfolding himself. By being himself.

The principal sighed, told him to change his shirt and try to keep his wings folded. She'd known he had wings, she'd thought most of the teachers did, but apparently not. She knew his family, knew their history, and was ashamed of the teacher's reaction.

He learnt that her kindness was rare and that the teacher's fear was the norm, when he grew up.

His friends, classmates, whatnots, slowly became hateful towards him, learnt from their parents that he was abnormal, that they should stay away from his kind, and, slowly, his flights over the field turned into alone time, because there were only a few who kept in contact with him, but they didn't want to be seen with him when he was flying – for fear of him possibly getting caught, that was.

When he was thirteen, he knew that human kind was foul and he hated his wings.

There were multiple incidents where his friends – used to be friends, how could they be his friends anymore? - came watch him fly just to throw rocks at him before he had to find a new field, somewhere no one could find him. He told his parents he was happy, even though he knew they must have known he couldn't have been.

His teachers were wary of him, thinking, as they'd been taught, that he could turn into a vicious beast as all those with wings did. He hated them, hated the school – hated himself.

When he flew, he forgot that, all that.

He remembered himself and believed that maybe – just maybe there was something for him in life. He flew over the fields, made sure there was no one around. Tried to keep up with rumours to find out if ever there was someone else with wings near him in life.

He found reason for living when he flew, remembered how much he could enjoy it, and when he stopped, when he folded his wings, he wept. Sometimes. Because he felt like someone could come and take his joy out of life – what would he be without his wings – he knew people tried to experiment with his kind – wasn't he just an ordinary kid still?

When he turned sixteen, he asked his parents if he could move in with Harry – Harry who was three years older than him, Harry with whom he fought the most. If he could move in with her and start anew in a new school. With no one who knew his background – no one to know, everyone to hide from.

He wasn't surprised he got the permission to move, he thought that his parents thought he might find friends, maybe find someone like him.

Harry didn't object, she said she loved him, that she wanted only good things for him, that she had always wanted that. That she hated watching him grow silent, grow lonely, get depressed. And he laughed, told her everything would change.

He would change.

He would find friends, wouldn't he?

He could be anything, he would be everything. Would he not?

(But he would miss the fields, because the fields couldn't follow him to a bigger city. He would have less possibilities for flying. He would hate it, he would lose himself only to find himself again, years later. But he would find friends.)


End file.
